


fill a space (in which two bodies float).

by katarama



Series: Salem Academy of Sorcery [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Dom Scott McCall, Dom/sub, Edging, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Magic, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5527889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott thought he was stuck, with more options than Stiles but not very many.  Anything that requires huge initial bursts of magic he just can’t do.  But then, Stiles found something so perfect for Scott, so suited to his magic that it feels as natural as breathing.  It’s not just a sex thing.  It’s not even fully a sex thing.  But it’s part of what he’s learning he loves, even in bed, feeling like he’s doing something good for someone.</p><p>Now, it’s one of his and Stiles’ favorite things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fill a space (in which two bodies float).

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bladeofsolsthiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeofsolsthiem/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Brook! This is fast forwarded a few years from the other fics in our Salem Academy of Sorcery 'verse, because you asked for soft dom Scott McCall. Enjoy!

Scott was first introduced to the intersection between sex and magic when the school nurse came to their classes to talk about doubling up on protection, because “even the most secure contraceptive spell can go wrong”.  Scott honestly tries to block it from his mind and reimagine a better origin story, because being pulled to the front of the class by his mother for a demonstration with condoms is something no one should ever be subjected to.

By now, Scott, like everyone in their class, knows the practical sexual uses of magic.  It’s good for keeping clothes and sheets clean, useful for post-orgasm haze when Scott’s feeling too sleepy and lazy to get a rag or sock to wipe the come from his skin.  

Scott’s first brush with the less practical and more kinky side of magic, though, is entirely down to Derek.

It was an accident, in a way that things with Derek rarely are.  It was Derek’s mouth on Scott’s neck, his nails in Scott’s sides, blooming bright and red and just short of painful, Derek’s hands pressing against the marks in the skin.  Scott hid them from view with a smear of a glamour, though Derek’s gaze on his neck made them feel obvious, transparent.

When the marks lasted longer than Scott had ever worn a hickey before, though, even after all the pain had faded, Scott was puzzled.  It wasn’t until he was in the greenhouses that he realized, watching Derek run his fingers through the dirt, his own careful release of magic to fertilize the soil.

“Your hands,” Scott had said, his own fingers drifting up to his neck.  “Your magic’s in your hands.”

Since then, Scott has learned a lot more about what those hands can do.  He knows how it feels when Derek’s magic is perfectly focused, when his touch gets under Scott’s skin, down to his very nerves.  He’s seen Stiles ready to come with Derek’s hands on his nipples, Stiles whimpering and swearing because it’s as intense as his cock being touched.  It was a spell Derek had studied for ages, had seen in an old textbook he stumbled across.  Stiles had enthusiastically supported testing it out, and Scott was awed when he saw the way Stiles’ nerves glowed bright under his skin, Derek’s fingers just the barest press for a moment, a held breath and then gone.  

Biological magic is careful magic, always.

Even now, Scott is learning.  The first time Allison hooks up her magical strap-on is a revelation.  Scott clenches around her and she gasps, just as surprised as him that she can feel every inch of slide as much as Scott.  It’s amazing to him, knowing he’s making her feel good when she fucks him, in more than just a distant, incidental way.

(It’s even more amazing when he reads that they’ve been reconfigured for daily use by trans people with magic.  The more Scott learns about how magic is used, the more awed he is.)

He’s always felt limited, though, in how much he could actually do with his magic.  Scott’s magic isn’t like Derek’s, intensely physical but with surprising reserves.  Stiles is in the opposite boat; there’s a moratorium on Stiles using magic in the bedroom after he got a little bit overexcited and Derek’s lamp shattered.  Stiles’ control has improved vastly since first year, but he’s still not at the point where anyone wants him trying anything more complicated than setting a protection charm.  

Scott thought he was stuck, too, with more options than Stiles but not very many.  Anything that requires huge initial bursts of energy he just can’t do.  But then, Stiles found something Scott _can_  do, something so perfect for Scott, so suited to his magic that it feels as natural as breathing.  It’s not just a sex thing.  It’s not even fully a sex thing.  But it’s part of what he’s learning he loves, even in bed, feeling like he’s doing something _good_  for someone.

Now, it’s one of his and Stiles’ favorite things.

* * *

 

Stiles flops down naked on Scott’s bed, enlarged with magic to fit three.  Not everyone is Derek, whose mother looked bemused but agreed when Derek asked for a bigger bed, claiming the ones in fifth year singles were too small to fit his growing frame.  Lydia had gotten herself a plush, fancy bed from the start of first year, and Jackson had followed suit (because he couldn’t be seen as less painfully wealthy, of course).  But money doesn’t grow on trees for the rest of them, so Scott and Stiles make do with what they have.

Having a single has been amazing.  It’s had everyday uses, not having to worry about keeping anyone up when Scott is up late studying, and not having to waste magic on charms to keep his roommate from hearing his music when it gets too loud.  His room can get a little bit messier, even though Derek frowns at it when it does, and he spends a lot more of his time walking around his room without clothes on.

The best part, though, is having the space to do this.  To not have to worry about sexiling roommates.  To know when Stiles is too restless and to stop his wandering around the room, to bring him back to the bed.  To kiss him, his lips still as puffy and chapped as the first time, to pull away so he can take his clothes off.  To laugh at the way his hair rumples when he gets stuck in his shirt, his limbs still going clumsy with nerves every time he knows things are leading to Scott taking a load off his shoulders.  

Scott gently maneuvers Stiles’ shirt off, grinning as Stiles jabs his newly freed elbow into his side for laughing.  Scott gets nervous, too, and it eases the tension and anticipation building in Scott’s chest to hear Stiles call him a dick, his face flushed pink.  It reminds Scott that they’re still them, even when he takes on increased responsibility, when Stiles goes loose for him.  Stiles is still grumbling when he goes to take his jeans off, and Scott feels the rush to reach out and touch him, to wrap his arms around him and let him melt.  Stiles isn’t there yet, though; not yet, at least.  Not when he sits back on the bed naked and looks up at Scott and says he’s ready.

“Okay,” Scott says.  He moves away from Stiles and takes his own clothes off, piece by piece, movements deliberate.  It’s the last part of things for him, knowing that a scene is about to start.  The last part of his little ritual, taking his clothes off and folding them off to the side.  It lets the last of his nerves bleed out of him, lets him anchor himself, establish calm and control, even if it’s over something as small as how neatly his underwear is folded.

The spell that he puts in place doesn’t allow for him to lose control.

He settles down onto the bed next to Stiles and kisses him one last time before he coaxes Stiles onto his back.  Scott rests his hand on Stiles’ heart, ignoring the way Stiles’ nipple feels pressed under his finger.  He says a few words, a spell he mumbled to himself a hundred times before Stiles heard him say the words out loud.  Some people add directives, and Scott wouldn’t normally need to verbally add them for his magic to _know_ , but he does anyway, for Stiles’ benefit.  He reminds his magic and his boyfriend of their safeword, tells Stiles that he’s turning things on low from Stiles’ end, because Scott can’t afford to lose his focus, and being swamped with Stiles’ feelings at full force could be distracting, overwhelming and dangerous.

He doesn’t let Stiles have everything from him, though, either.  Normally he would, but today is different.  Stiles gives him a confused look, but Scott waits a moment before he explains.

He doesn’t move his hand, even once he can feel everything settle in.  He watches Stiles’ expression flash from anxious to unsure, though Scott doesn’t really need to watch to know what Stiles is feeling, not now.  He can feel the quiet thrum of nerves and anxiety seeping in, the wave of surprise that Stiles gives off once Scott’s feelings settle inside him.  Scott is careful to control what’s going on, in his own head and gut, this early on.  Steadiness, he can easily manage.  Assuredness.  Reassurance.  Trust, and trustworthiness.

“How does that feel?” Scott asks, moving his hand so he can thumb at Stiles’ nipple.  Stiles groans, and Scott grins - he can feel the quick rush of arousal, and it only feeds into his impatience.  But he waits until Stiles shivers and says, “We’re good.  Is everything okay today?”

Scott lets the spell fade from the forefront of his mind, waits until he feels it set, so he doesn’t have to worry about any spikes in his magic in the middle of things.  Mental magic, magic tied to emotions, is just as careful as biological magic, and he wants to be able to put his sole focus on the boy in front of him, sprawled out on the bed.

Stiles lifts his arms above his head, the movement drawing his upper body out into smoother lines.  Sometimes when they do this, Scott uses magic to restrain Stiles, to help keep him still.  Sometimes he uses his magic to keep Stiles’ wrists pinned together, an invisible bond that Stiles can feel but can’t see.  It’s softer on Stiles’ wrists than rope, which always leads to Stiles rubbing his wrists raw.  Today, though, that isn’t what Scott wants.  

“I wanted to try something new, if that’s okay with you.”

Stiles’ hands are down, and his lips are on Scott’s before Scott can even finish talking.  He knows that it’s as much excitement as it is nerves; Scott cares about doing things right, and he doesn’t often instigate.  But it still surprises Scott, both in its suddenness and its intensity.  Scott stops, licks Stiles’ spit from his lips, and sends Stiles another tiny wave of reassurance through the spell, enough that it should be palpable.

“Slow down,” Scott tells him.  “You’re going to have to wait to come, you’re gonna make it harder on yourself.”

Recognition flickers in Stiles’ eyes faster than Scott expects, and another small wave of arousal registers in the back of Scott’s head.  “Edging?” Stiles guesses, and Scott smiles.

“You wanted to, right?,” Scott says, and Stiles grins up at him.  Stiles has been hinting at it for ages, before they were actually even having sex, when everything was quiet whispered words about what they wanted and checklists that appeared on Scott’s desk in his dorm room.  More and more, Scott feels like they’re in a good enough place to actually try things.  There’s trust there, more experience with the way this part of their relationship fits together.

This time, when Scott leans down to kiss Stiles, everything’s slowed, and Scott’s able to actually enjoy the way Stiles’ lips feel between his.  He loves kissing Stiles, in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever get bored of.  Stiles’ lips always surprise him in their roughness, because they look pillowy soft.  It’s familiar, though, comforting and fun that always gets Stiles loose.

Once Scott feels Stiles’ dick chubbing up against his hip, he pulls out the lube and slicks up his fingers.  There’s a toy sitting on the bed next to him, Stiles’ favorite vibe that Danny gave him for his birthday, thin and purple and magically waterproofed.  It came with a note attached, “please just get off in the shower,” but Scott and Stiles aren't that limited, anymore.

“Spread your legs?” Scott asks, and Stiles goes easily for him, giving Scott access to his ass.  Scott kisses him one last time before he focuses his attention on Stiles’ hole, opening Stiles up nice and slowly.  Scott watches Stiles’ reactions carefully, watches when his breath catches and when he bites his lip too hard.  It’s partly Scott still getting used to the fact that he can have this, that he can touch Stiles this way.

More than anything, though, it’s that he wants to be careful their first time doing this together.  He has his eyes, his growing familiarity with Stiles’ body.  He has the feelings tinged at the edges of his awareness, there if he needs to tap into whether Stiles is okay, whether he’s overwhelmed.  Scott gently reminds Stiles to tell him when he gets close to coming, but he wants to be able to check in on Stiles, just to be on the safe side.

Scott fingers Stiles until he's open enough to take the vibe, making sure that Stiles has adjusted to the discomfort and has headed back towards arousal.  Stiles is dripping wet when Scott finally eases in the vibe, and it doesn't take long before Scott is pressing the button and watching Stiles squirm under him.  

Stiles like this takes Scott’s breath away.  He can actually see as Stiles starts to dip, when Stiles transitions from fidgeting and squirming, whining when he tells Scott that he’s about to come, to burrowed deeper in his head.  His voice gets softer, less demanding, more accepting every time his breath catches as he tells Scott he’s too close.  Scott winds him up three times, lets Stiles bring himself right to the edge each time.  Scott can feel through the spell how _much_  it is for Stiles, how frustrating and arousing and overwhelming it is to get so close and then be pulled back, to have the vibrator pulled out and to jerk his hips to try to get that last little bit of friction that would tip him over, to have to catch his breath and recenter all because Scott said no.  “No, you can’t come,” “No, you have to wait.”  

The last time, when Stiles gasps out that he has to come, that he can’t hold back, Scott kisses him hard.  There’s precome all over Stiles’ abs, a sheen of sweat on Stiles’ face, from the strain of holding back and the body heat of being so aroused.  Scott can feel the desperation starting to bleed through the haze in Stiles’ head, and Scott doesn’t want it to destroy the way Stiles’ body has become all give for him.  He tells Stiles he doesn’t have to hold on anymore and watches as Stiles gets his hand around his dick, watches Stiles break as he shoots come on himself.  Scott holds the vibe steady through Stiles’ orgasm until he’s finally too sensitive, struggling to catch his breath, his whole body shaking with every pulse.

Scott gives Stiles a second to let his breathing even out, to let the obvious rise and fall of Stiles’ chest normalize again.  Scott magics the vibe clean, sets it down on the bed and runs his hands gently along Stiles’ chest, a brief cooling tingle as the come is cleaned away.  Stiles, when he’s like this, will just let it sit until it crusts and flakes.  It’s sexy at the time, being covered in Scott’s come, and is not, at all, later.

With that out of the way, it’s time for Scott’s real favorite part, the thing he looks forward to most with any scene they do.  

He eases onto the bed next to Stiles, his magic acting without active thought to surround Stiles with a bubble of coolness so Stiles doesn’t overheat when Scott wraps an arm around him.  Scott adjusts his spell from earlier, letting more of his feelings bleed into Stiles.  Scott knows he’ll be drained later, but he has to do it, anyway.  He wants Stiles to feel every single bit of love Scott has for him, a blanket more calming and reassuring than the one rumpled at the foot of their bed.  Scott wants Stiles to know, to experience for himself, just how deep Scott’s awe runs, just how amazed Scott is.  

It still catches Scott, every time Stiles chooses to give him this.  To give him the chance to take a load off Stiles’ shoulders, to take away the pressure of making decisions.  If it were up to Stiles, he would’ve come at the first chance to feel good, five minutes in.  Stiles passed the responsibility and authority onto Scott, so Scott could help Stiles have what he actually wants and needs, to be pushed just enough, to be made to wait, so that when Stiles finally came, it was enough to wipe the stress out of his body, even if only for an instant or two.  Scott got to do that for Stiles, because Stiles let him.  

Stiles gets to feel that warmth and pride, layered over the high of getting to come, at last.  Stiles doesn’t have to doubt for a second that he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t do what Scott wanted well enough.  He doesn’t have to question whether he made Scott happy.  He doesn’t have to question himself at all, not for a single moment, because everything is right there beneath his skin, folded into his head and his heart, there to prevent any fear and insecurity from creeping in.  

Scott’s emotions aren’t completely consuming, not the way Stiles’ are.  But these feelings run so deep that Scott knows Stiles has to feel the full impact of them.  Scott couldn’t hold back how proud he is of Stiles if he wanted to.  Scott doesn’t think that what Stiles did is something he could’ve done, and Stiles was so obedient and so good, even though it was hard.  Scott feels love and affection and emotional pleasure and happiness with every ounce of him, and he wants Stiles to _know_  that.

But as time passes, Scott can feel the tiredness start to settle back into Stiles’ bones.  He can feel the edges of it, even through the encouragement and warmth that Stiles is letting himself feel.  Scott kisses Stiles again, murmurs in his ear that he loves him, and he lets Stiles cling with loose limbs.

“I liked this,” Stiles mumbles, his eyes half-lidded.  “Let’s do this again.”

“I liked it too,” Scott agrees.  “But we’ll talk later.  Right now, it’s time for a nap.”

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up an hour and a half later, the spell worn off.  He’s further under than he was when he went to sleep, so Scott clears his afternoon for some downtime.  He calls Derek over, because Derek enjoys this part, too, wrapping his nice, big body around Stiles, playing with Stiles’ hair.  Now that Stiles’ hair is grown long, Derek likes picking out small pieces and trying to braid them, like he used to do with Cora when she was little and got her hair chopped off because she got bubble gum stuck in it.  

It’s the break all of them needed.  The three spend the afternoon loose and lazy, sprawled on each others’ laps.  They break out the food that was squirreled away so they don’t have to leave.  They have responsibilities lingering, but that’s not important until later.

Right now, they have some time to relax.

Scott loves sex magic a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
